Gratitude
by Alice Elliot
Summary: One-shot written for Ginji's birthday. Several of the people whose lives he's impacted reflect on Ginji and the meaning he holds for them. Slight Ban/Ginji.


A/N: Happy birthday to our Ginji! Still one of my favorite characters of all time. This has spoilers for very, very late into the manga (volume 39 even), and some parts that just won't make sense without knowing it. The spoilers are only stated vaguely though… and if you've only seen the anime, I recommend giving the manga a read; it's worth the time!

**Gratitude**

Blue, pale as a robin's egg. Pink, joyously bright. Orange, as strong as a flame. Green, the soft, yet vibrant leaves.

These colors, mixed in dots with soft, blurring edges, meld together in the bouquet placed upon the grave marker. She's brought these flowers together for the pleasant kaleidoscope of color they make, no doubt more brilliant to the eyes of one gifted with better sight. Her son would love them, she's certain; they are bright and manifold like his smile, tiny as it was when she last held him in her arms. She prefers to smile rather than cry at that memory now.

After all, now she can remember the voice, at once childish and mature, she'd heard from that same son's smiling mouth. "Thank you," he told her as he left, for good. An odd mother she's been, she knows, watching over him as part of a cruel experiment from a world away.

She has no place in his world, and she is at peace with that. So long as his existence continues giving light as he inevitably does, shedding light on the dark places of his world. And he wouldn't eliminate those shadows; she has confidence in his wisdom not to do such a thing. The world he creates will be no paradise. It will be real, just as real as her own, and not a mere dataset.

Prayer has served for little in her life, but she closes her eyes and thinks of him like this, a quiet hope making her heart beat quickly. Her son is her pride, her redemption: one she hardly deserves, and yet cherishes even while so far separated from him.

The wind carries gentle warmth across her skin, and she is grateful.

* * *

It's been dark for a long time.

For Makubex, the darkness has always been somewhat comforting. He's been in this fortress for as much of his life as he can remember, after all, and there isn't too much natural lighting in these parts. Electrical light, much like the soft whirring of the machines, has always been little more than a given in life, the pale illumination only covering the immediate area by his screen. That's how he's always preferred it. Crouched in a dark room, the only light that from his computers, he is safe, safe and at home.

There's only one time in another light that he feels at home. And that is by the side of their sovereign, the Lightning Emperor, in the light of either his harsh electricity or his merciful smile. Light is everything the boy is, a light with such strength and such gentleness that Makubex is taken back anew each time he comes into contact with the other, which has been more and more lately. He's slowly being drawn into the light, into a world with more light, and it both frightens him and fills him with joy. He only hopes that he isn't flying like the moth to the flame, trying to enter a world that will only burn him, reject him and toss him aside, never to fly again.

He entertains such thought on evening like this one, as he and Ginji (and it hardly feels right to call him by name still, not when he commands such respect) sit up high, amongst the discarded machines found everywhere, bathed in the few rays of orange light that manage to slip into this dark place. The smile on the older boy's face appears half-mournful, and it aches a little to look at the sight he makes. Makubex admires him, as everyone does, and it still confuses him to be growing closer to someone who should be a distant idol. It confuses him all the more when he finds the image of their noble emperor is not at all shattered or changed by his increasing knowledge of the very human parts of this boy. He's strong and shines so bright, more brightly than anything else in Makubex's life.

"Say, Makubex," Ginji says, turning from trying to eye the sun to return the gaze the younger boy has allowed to linger over his smile. There's something warm and vulnerable about him like this, something that inspires the will to protect him, protect his innocence. He knows that the generals assembled around him feel this way, and suddenly he understands. Despite his age, despite that Makubex knows all too well that Ginji has experienced just as much cruelty as they all have here, he can feel that there is an almost impossible naivety to this boy. "Why don't you join up with us?"

The question takes him aback, but he simply smiles, a small expression that doesn't particularly convey any emotion. It's one he is accustomed to wearing. "I'm already a member of VOLTS, Ginji-san," he answers.

His smile far wider, Ginji shakes his head. "Not just as a member," he says, "you should help us fight to protect everyone! I've seen the awesome things you make with your computers."

Makubex laughs a little, but only because Ginji seems to have misunderstood the intentions of his two generals. They don't fight in a higher position to protect everyone; they fight to protect _him_ once he's charged straight in to defend the people living here. "You… truly find me worthy?"

"Of course," Ginji replies without hesitation, and there is no doubt to his sincerity. "I trust you, Makubex."

The moment is one that he never forgets, for all the times he feels betrayed and abandoned by this man who seemed like a permanent fixture in their lives. Ginji's bright hair crowned with dying sunlight, he gazes right at Makubex, brown eyes reflecting perfectly the trust he speaks of. The light is so strong that he nearly averts his eyes, but they remain fixed, dumbfounded, on the Emperor, as the sight sears into his memory.

Needless to say, he accepts.

* * *

It's raining today, the muddy grey clouds as thick as the master's best coffee, blocking out even the most persistent rays of sun. Natsumi doesn't hate such days, but she prefers weather that allows the cheerful sun to gift the earth with its light. Still, it makes her feel safe and warm to be within the glad confines of the Honky Tonk, where there's always a cup of hot liquid ready to warm her fingers, and always her co-worker and boss to provide pleasant company.

They're her family, really, and she couldn't be more grateful for them. In particular, her heart fills with a pleasant warmth, one akin to the deep, joyful heat of a sweet gulp of hot chocolate on a winter day, when she sees Ginji and Ban make their way noisily into the empty café. It's not every day that they stop by, but it's frequent enough that she considers them a part of the family. From their loud bickering to their quiet reposes after returning from those long, trying jobs, the two of them fit each other in a way she thought only happened in fantasies. It's hard for her to separate them even in her own mind, no matter how different the two of them are. She can't imagine one without the other.

So it's not to say that Ginji shines more brightly than Ban; that would hardly be fair, when she's heard from Paul of how Ginji was before they had truly found each other, found their compatible empty places, as the master would say. "Trampled by cold rain," was how he'd described the boy's eyes. It isn't easy for her to imagine it, but the longer she's with them, the more she can understand, because more of his depth peeks out from his cheerful surface. There's no falsehood in his smile; it's but a simple truth that often conceals others. And she knows it's his companion who led him into this world, who showed him the light of the sun that he now emulates so well, despite that he seems to partake in this sphere more than Ban does.

It's easy to fall into thinking about this as she absentmindedly wipes down the counter before her, listening to Rena humming quietly behind her. She can hear the coffee maker whirring softly, too, and she thinks that the other girl must be practicing her newly learned art. She smiles, grateful again to the Getbackers for saving this girl who has become a friend, almost a sister to her.

The bell above the door twinkles a few times, noisily, as the port is pushed open in one swift motion by a steady hand. Ban strides into the café, his other hand shoved into a pocket, crouching forward in his usual confident posture. "Morning, Natsumi, Rena," he calls with his usual smile, and the girl can't help but notice that he is a little wet from the rain. They must not have umbrellas, she thinks with amusement.

As expected, Ginji follows, the door passing to his hand as he bounces in after. "Natsumi-chan, Rena-chan! You wouldn't believe the rain out there!" His voice is warm and light, not at all bogged down as his usually bright hair is. Somehow, he has managed to get soaked with the rainwater, unlike his partner.

Natsumi laughs as she answers, "Good morning, you two! And I take it you'd like a hot chocolate, Ginji-san?"

Ginji nods enthusiastically, some water droplets jumping from his locks as he does so. Ban grimaces as the cold liquid springs at him.

"Perhaps you should consider investing in a big umbrella," Rena muses as she turns from her work, smiling at the sight the two make.

Pouting, Ginji motions dismissively. "Last time we tried sharing one," he says, "Ban-chan got all mad because I said I should be the one to hold it, because I'm taller and all!"

The anecdote earns him a knock on the head from his friend, and a chorus of laughter from the girls.

The two of them then fall into their usual patterns, their laughter and their yelling. It is all so normal and comforting, and Natsumi can't help but smile to herself.

He shines brightly, but on a day of quiet rain like this, there is even a muted quality to his brightness. Perhaps it's just the raindrops still showering off of him as he moves enthusiastically, chatting away with Ban in his usual animated fashion. It's then that Natsumi realizes that what he reminds her of is an electric streetlight, shedding those soothing yellow beams out into the cold, wet world. Privately satisfied with her analogy, she smiles, the bill for the warm drink happily forgotten, at least for the moment. The master is out, anyway. He doesn't need to know.

* * *

It's early morning, Ban realizes, not quite still the previous night. There isn't a single sliver of sunlight peeking out from behind the cityscape. The only light comes from the lamps lining the road they are parked near, and the glare of the digital clock display.

He grumbles a little, turning over in the driver's seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. Ginji is snoring softly next to him, nearly falling out of his seat as he moves in his sleep. His mouth is moving too, forming quiet sleep talk, half-words that make a string of utter nonsense. The sounds the other young man makes in his sleep have become just as much a part of his world as the rest of him has, and he can no longer imagine sleeping without them as background noise. Before he knows it, he's smiling an embarrassingly sentimental smile, one only seen by the dark half-light of the car. He's glad for that, at least. No need to let Ginji know how soft on him he's gotten.

Sleep doesn't seem to want to come back to him, he realizes as his breathing and pulse refuse to slow down. It doesn't help that his mind keeps falling back to his partner. He lets it, eventually, but not after a show of resistance, his eyes insistently closed as he turns uneasily.

Ban remembers the first time he'd walked into a church, back in Germany. There aren't many in Japan, and he isn't religious anyways, but he can't forget the glass windows there. The light seeping in from outside was gathered up by these artistic mediators, filtering it and providing it with different colors to take. It bathed the pews and the people in them with a prism of colors. The beauty of the scene has never left Ban, the afterimage of that light, so warm in the stuffy building permeated with the scent of oak and holy water, always remaining in his consciousness. He had taken it in with young eyes opened wide in fascination, their deep blue tinted with the various shades the light took on.

Ginji, he can't help but think, isn't too different from that light. He takes on the colors of the world, crossing the spectrum from dark purples to the light, airy blues, falling differently upon the eyes of each person he meets. The Ginji he first met, even, still had that same light to him, almost too brilliantly, indeed, but it had been that darkest of lights, almost too shaded to still be considered an illumination. And now, as time goes on and he learns more of the outside world, he shines through the band of colors, blurring and crossing boundaries between his dreams and reality, meeting crashing disappointments and heartwarming victories, neither of which leave him unchanged.

The most incredible part is that his light managed to meet even Ban, who hid his eyes so insistently from the glare of the world. He shakes his head gently now, the unruly locks of his hair moving about across the material of the seat as he shifts. He obviously hasn't gotten enough sleep if his mind is thinking up ridiculously sappy things like this. All that romantic poetry he'd studied as a kid must not have left his mind as completely as he wants it to have.

Of course, that he lets himself think these things at all is just another sign of how being with Ginji has changed him. He smiles at that realization, returning to his endeavor of getting some rest. Ultimately, he is grateful for the presence of the sudden light in his life.


End file.
